Getting Old Is Hard To Do
by KateToast
Summary: The day of Luke's 46th birthday is not the best day, but not the worst, either.


**XXX**

_November 2011_

_4:30am_

The alarm buzzed frantically, waking Luke, as it did most Thursday mornings. He lunged for the tortuous machine and shut it off, then scrubbed a hand over his tired face. His elbow made a popping noise with the motion, making him frown. He twisted to see if the alarm had woken Lorelai, his back aching in protest.

"Alarms should not be allowed before the sun is up," she mumbled into her pillow.

"I'm sorry," Luke said, rubbing her back. "Go back to sleep."

"It's already 4:30?" she asked, eyes still closed as Luke swung his legs over the side of the bed, trying to stretch his back. "Will didn't fall asleep until midnight, his ear was still bothering him…"

"You should've woken me up. We could've switched off."

"No, you had to get up… now, at this unholy time. If the diner man misses his bread delivery then the townspeople are unhappy, and then they get out their pitchforks and torches and try to storm the castle..."

Luke stood as she rambled, padding across the cold wood floor to grab the clothes he'd left out the night before. She was right, and since they'd moved into the new house farther from the center of town he'd had to adjust to waking up earlier to still make the 5:15 delivery. As he made his way to the bathroom he swung back by the bed and placed a palm onto the mattress, leaning down to his wife. She'd rolled over so her body faced his, and finally blinked her blue eyes open. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Thank you."

Lorelai gave him a lazy, half-awake smile. "It's your birthday," she whispered.

He nodded. "It is."

"Happy birthday," she said, in that breathy way that got him every time.

"Thanks," he replied, flashing her a brief smile before standing at full height again.

She grabbed his wrist before he could move towards the bathroom. "Wait," she instructed, yanking him back to her. He stumbled and used the bed for support, which Lorelai took advantage of, placing a hand on his rough cheek and pulling his face to hers, giving him a lingering kiss.

As much as he enjoyed it, he broke the kiss after a minute, apologetic. "I have to get to the diner."

Lorelai sighed, her hand moving from his cheek to run through his hair. "I know. And to be totally honest with you, I'm too exhausted for anything else anyway," she admitted. "The joys of a child's ear infection."

"I'm sure he appreciates you staying up with him. I know I do."

"Sweet."

"Go back to sleep," Luke insisted, going for one more quick kiss.

"All right," Lorelai agreed, already settling back under the covers.

Luke trudged into the bathroom, shutting the door and turning the tap on. He went to grab his toothbrush but got distracted by his reflection in the entirely-too-big mirror from Kim's Antiques that Lorelai had insisted they'd needed. He stared at his ragged face, toothbrush in hand, suddenly noticing new lines and creases near his eyes and on his forehead; the way his hair was thinning just like his dad's; the way the stubble on his cheeks was growing lighter with gray.

Finally Luke turned his eyes down to his toothbrush, and went through the motions of getting ready for the day. Every so often he heard that damn pop in his elbow.

_8:20am_

"French toast, extra cinnamon, two eggs scrambled," Luke said, delivering the plate.

"Uh," the patron said tentatively, looking at his breakfast and then at Luke. "I ordered the eggs sunny-side up."

Luke held back a sigh, retrieving the plate. "Right, sorry about that, just be a minute – Caesar, two eggs sunny-side up ASAP!" he called to the kitchen, bringing the plate back to the pass-through window and grabbing another two that had appeared.

He weaved between the tables and then stopped and frowned – he was blanking on whose order he was carrying. Finally he barked, "Who had pancakes?"

The man and woman at the table by the window slowly raised their hands. Luke set the plates stacked with pancakes down in front of them. "When you have a minute, could we get more coffee?"

"Sure," Luke said, rushing back to the counter. Caesar had the eggs ready and on the plate, so Luke took that in one hand and the coffee pot in the other. "Sunny-side up," he told the French toast-orderer, who nodded in thanks.

He was making his way back to the counter when he noticed a hand in the air from the pancake people. "Coffee?" the man prompted.

"Right." Luke rushed over and topped off their mugs. "Sorry. Coffee's on the house," he promised.

He was rounding the end of the counter by his dad's old cash register when Kirk spoke up from his stool a few feet away. "Rough morning," he commented knowingly.

Luke bit back an annoyed retort and instead opted for a generic grunt as he returned the coffee pot. Kirk took the silence as invitation to continue: "By my count you've screwed up or forgotten at least four orders since I got here. Including mine," he added, looking down at his almost-empty plate.

"I didn't hear you complaining," Luke pointed out, checking a pile of receipts. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose and widened his eyes, trying to snap out of whatever had hold of him this morning.

"You look exhausted."

"Thanks."

"I'm just saying," Kirk defended, waving his fork around as he spoke. "The bags under your eyes are quite pronounced today."

"I guess that's what happens when you've got a sick kid at home," Luke explained, focusing on the receipts.

"Face it, Luke. You can't pull all-nighters like you used to."

"I never pulled all-nighters, Kirk."

"Fine, consider it a figure of speech," Kirk said, pointing his fork directly at Luke. "It's your birthday, isn't it? The relation between aging and memory decline is a scientific fact, Luke. You need all the rest you can get!"

"I'll take that into consideration," Luke falsely promised, and then he grabbed the coffee pot to make another round of refills.

"Happy birthday, by the way," Kirk added as Luke came around the counter. "Any gift hints? I still get a discount at the beauty store, I could get something for those bags."

Luke ignored him as he filled coffee mugs.

_9:08am_

Kirk had finally just left as the diner phone began ringing. Luke reached for it and gave a distracted "Luke's" as he made change for a customer.

"It's me," Lorelai greeted. "How's the birthday boy?"

"Busy," Luke told her, giving the customer her change and mouthing a "thanks."

"Sounds it. You okay?"

Luke rubbed his left shoulder, trying to relieve a bothersome kink. "Fine, just busy," he said. "How's Will doing?"

He heard rustling and guessed Lorelai was folding laundry. "He says his ear's still hurting. I'm not convinced he isn't milking it now to get more home time, but I don't wanna take the chance of bringing him back to day-care tomorrow and being the cause for some _Contagion_-like outbreak of ear infections, which means we're gonna have to play a fun round of Schedule Rearranging again. I have to be at the inn in the morning for that staff meeting."

"Okay," Luke said. "I'll get Caesar to open and stay with Will."

"Perfect. I should be able to get away in the afternoon for the ol' switcharoo. Oh, he just wandered in. Want to say hi to Daddy, sweetie? Tell him happy birthday," Lorelai prompted.

Luke couldn't help but grin as he heard the phone being passed, picturing Will in the pajamas with the construction trucks that he'd been wearing when Luke had kissed him goodbye early this morning. "Hi, Daddy. Happy birthday," the boy said.

"Thanks, buddy. Did you sleep okay?"

"Yeah. How old are you?"

Luke heard Lorelai snickering in the background. He cleared his throat before settling on: "Old."

Will seemed to accept this. "Okay. Can we play Dragon when you get home?"

"We'll see, bud," Luke said. The idea of playing Dragon, a game that mostly involved Luke crawling on the floor growling as Will jumped around trying to defeat him, didn't seem as appealing today as it had before.

Luke heard the phone exchanged again. "I've gotta run to the inn this afternoon for a bit," Lorelai told him, "but Babette said she could watch him for me."

"Great."

There was a pause before Lorelai asked again, this time with slight concern: "Sure you're okay, hon?"

"Fine," Luke said again. "Listen, I gotta get back."

"Okay," she said, though she didn't sound convinced. "I'll talk to you later. Love you."

"You too," Luke said, and then he returned the phone to its place, sighing.

_12:33pm_

"Turkey on wheat, sugah, and make it snappy!" Babette called to Luke as she and Miss Patty settled at the table by the door. "I'm babysittin' your kid in an hour!"

"Cobb salad for me, sweetheart," Patty added. She then moved her head slowly, scanning the entire room to see who was (and wasn't) there.

Luke gave the order to Caesar and then made his way to their table. "Thanks for looking after him, Babette," he said sincerely.

"Ah, it's no problem. That little tyke is quite the charmer!"

"He's going to be an attractive young man," Patty simpered in a way that made Luke uncomfortable. "Just like his father."

"I always said, when you and Lorelai finally popped one out, they'd be the best-lookin' kid in Connecticut!" Babette said, pumping her fist towards Luke. "Seriously, you guys ever consider pageantry?"

"Can I get you something to drink?" Luke asked, avoiding any acknowledgement of their comments.

"Iced tea, dear," Patty requested.

"Same for me, sugah."

Luke went to get their drinks, shaking his head as he filled cups with ice. Though he was loath to admit it, Kirk had a point – dealing with Will's ear infection the last few days (and sleep-deprived nights) had worn Luke out, making his routine at the diner seem all the more tiresome. His sore back and damn popping elbow weren't helping, either.

He made sure to add an extra lemon slice to each glass and then brought the drinks to Babette and Patty. "Your food should be right out," he told them, turning away.

"Say, Luke, isn't it your birthday?" Patty asked.

Luke squeezed the order pad in his hand and said reluctantly, "Uh, yeah, it is."

"Say it ain't so!" Babette shouted. "I thought it was next week!"

"Nope. It's, uh… today."

"Well, happy birthday, doll!"

"You're getting handsomer with age, dear," Patty insisted flirtatiously. "Just like George Clooney, or a nice wine."

"Yeah," Babette agreed enthusiastically. "That Lorelai's a lucky gal!"

"Thanks," Luke said, adjusting his hat.

"How old, darling?" Patty asked.

"46."

"Wow! Really?" Babette's eyes widened. "Gettin' closer to the big 5-0, huh, sugah?"

Luke took a deep breath. Great. "I guess so. I'm gonna go check on your order," he said, escaping the two women.

Caesar's head popped up at the pass-through window from the kitchen. "Are we allowed to talk about your birthday now?" he asked, having obviously overheard the loud conversation.

"Absolutely not," Luke assured him. He took a deep breath. "_Fifty_," he said to himself, feeling a foreign sense of panic at the number.

_3:51pm_

Luke was in the storage room, counting jars of pickles and worrying about his future. The talk of getting closer to 50 had stayed with him throughout the lunch rush, so once it had quieted in the diner he'd fled to the back, figuring some inventory would calm him down. Instead, the silence had only magnified the concerns he'd been carrying all day.

He was turning 46. That was about the age his father had been when he'd gotten sick, forcing Luke to step up and take on more and more responsibility, until suddenly his father had been gone, his sister had gotten pregnant and married, and he'd inherited a hardware store he hadn't really wanted. And now here he was, twenty-something years later, only recently settled down and raising a family. What if something happened to him? What if the diner became too much? He couldn't pass it on to April, who was just beginning college, and Will wasn't even three years old. Jess would never take over, and Luke wouldn't even think of asking Rory, whose journalism career was taking off.

Luke put down the pickle jar he'd been clutching, and then put his hand against his spine, straightening up to gauge the amount of pain it was giving him. Had it gotten worse? Were all those years of hauling boxes of condiments and slouching over the stove catching up to him _today_ of all days?

Luke wondered if this was what a mid-life crisis felt like, and then dismissed the thought. He removed his hand from his back and looked again at his order sheet. He was being ridiculous.

_6:17pm_

The house was all lit up when Luke pulled into the driveway behind Lorelai's sedan and the Jeep, warm yellow spilling out from the windows onto the sad-looking grass. He sat in the truck, staring at the place they'd called home for almost a year, with its hulking oak trees and sturdy farmer's porch. It looked a bit like the old house, where Lorelai and Rory had lived for so long, which Luke supposed was part of the reason why they'd finally decided on this one after weeks of searching through Stars Hollow. He never really just stopped and looked at their home, or at least he hadn't since they'd bought it.

Luke did _not_ care for this strange mood he was in. He couldn't wait for the day to be over, for age to become an afterthought again. He hauled himself out of the truck and headed for the side door.

He heard music as he turned the knob, and giggling – the combination made him step inside warily, for if it was Wiggles time he'd be cajoled into joining. But instead of a Wiggles dance waiting for him, there was a large banner with messily colored-in block letters spelling out "Happy Birthday!" Also messy was practically every surface in the room: pots and pans and a disturbing number of mixing bowls on the counters and island, crayons scattered on Will's short drawing table, and a surprising amount of Paul Anka's dry dog food crunching underfoot.

Will was sitting on the only available bit of counter space tossing salad while Lorelai kept one hand on his back and the other on the wooden salad bowl. "That is the best-tossed salad I have ever seen," she was praising as Luke tried to avoid the kibble. The door closing had two sets of bright blue eyes jumping to him.

"Hey!" Lorelai called, giving him a wide grin.

"Daddy!" Will clapped. "We're s'prising you!"

Luke nodded as he took in the room. "I see that," he said, removing his jacket as he walked to them. He kissed Will's light brown head and shared a peck with Lorelai.

"You're home a little earlier than we anticipated," she explained, as Will returned to tossing the salad, which really seemed to involve the boy mashing a specific piece of lettuce with a giant serving fork. "We were gonna wait by the door for when you walked in and yell 'surprise!' and we even had this bit for Paul Anka to do with some slippers, though I have no idea where he's gotten to…"

"Sorry I ruined it," Luke said.

"Eh, don't apologize, it probably wasn't gonna go well anyway," Lorelai said, waving a hand. She looked at Will's handiwork and then gently took the oversized fork and spoon away. "I think the salad is done, sweetie! Great job," she said, helping Will down from the counter. The boy immediately bounced over to his drawing table.

"So… you're cooking," Luke surmised.

Lorelai headed back to the oven, opening the door a crack to peek inside. "Yes, we are cooking for you, because it's your birthday, and you deserve to be taken care of a little, too," Lorelai told him. "Plus, we had hardly _any_ help from Auntie Sookie," she added, sharing a smile with their son.

"Uh huh," Luke said slowly, trying to glance over her shoulder into the oven, but she closed the door again quickly and gave him a look. "I'm sure it'll be great," he said.

"Such a martyr," Lorelai teased, poking Luke in the side as she passed by him on the way to the sink. Luke didn't acknowledge her comment, instead looking at the homemade banner on the wall.

"Daddy, how old _are_ you?" Will asked for the second time that day, looking up from his toddler-sized seat. In front of him was a large piece of green construction paper, covered in scribbles and doodles.

Luke sighed as his shoulder twinged. "Ancient," he said.

"Older than Grandpa?"

Lorelai was laughing as she put on the oven mitts with the dancing broccoli. "Not quite," he answered, staring at his young son, who didn't yet understand the significance of time passing unless it related to receiving a treat for behaving, and who didn't yet realize that his dad would practically be a senior citizen when he graduated from high school.

That thought made Luke's throat feel tight. "I'm just gonna change," he said, heading out of the room.

Lorelai frowned at him, putting a pan of something surprisingly tasty-smelling onto the stove. "You don't need to change, this isn't dinner at the Ritz," she said.

"I – I spilled vinegar on myself, at the diner," he excused, just needing to escape for a moment. "I'll be right back."

He was just stepping onto the first stair when he heard Lorelai behind him. "All right, birthday boy, what's up?" He turned towards her, sheepish. "I know you don't love birthdays the way I do–"

"_No one_ loves birthdays the way you do," Luke said.

Lorelai gave him a look for interrupting. "_However_," she continued pointedly. "You've been Grand Master Funk all day, and don't try to deny it, Kirk and Babette both told me so. Now, I know the sight of me cooking is never very promising, and Will _may_ have been making it rain a little with Paul Anka's dog food before you got home, but it's your birthday. Usually you manage to fake a little more enthusiasm."

"I haven't been that bad," Luke defended weakly. Lorelai crossed her arms over her chest and waited expectantly, not happy with that answer. Luke sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "I'm _old_, Lorelai."

Lorelai, surprised at his weary admittance, actually chuckled. "You're old," she repeated, as if wondering if she'd heard him correctly.

"As I keep telling our son, yes, I'm old!"

Now Lorelai was frowning. "Hon, you're not old," she said.

"I feel old. My back hurts," he said to her. "And my shoulder. My damn elbow's been popping all day. I'm screwing up orders left and right at the diner!"

"All right," Lorelai conceded, stepping closer to him and putting a calming hand on his arm. "Luke, those things happen to _everyone_. You have a demanding job! You lean over a stove all day – your back hurts. You flip hundreds of burgers – your elbow's popping. You don't get enough sleep – you're a little forgetful. It happens to all of us! Yesterday I called and gave an earful to our linens supplier about the towels for ten minutes before remembering we'd switched suppliers three weeks ago. I'm not gonna send you to the nursing home just yet."

"I _look_ old," Luke said to her, defeated.

Lorelai smiled coyly at him, fingers trailing along his stubbled jaw. "You're as sexy as ever, babe. Trust me."

Luke stared at his wife, experiencing one of those moments where he didn't understand how he'd gotten so lucky and cursing himself for every stupid thing he'd done in his life to delay what they had now. "I'm 46."

"What?" Lorelai gasped playfully. "You said you were 24 when we got married! Divorce!"

"I'm closer to 50 than 40 now," Luke continued. "And we have a toddler. I'm almost 50 and I have a kid under the age of three. What's gonna happen when he wants me to play catch with him and I'm so blind I can't see the ball? How am I gonna teach him to fix his own car if I'm using a walker?"

Lorelai was nodding sympathetically. "I get it, I do. We're older parents. Which is weird, 'cause for a long time I was a really young parent. But I'm pretty sure you'll be able to see the ball when he throws it to you, and I'm pretty sure you're still a ways away from needing a walker. And if you aren't then we've got bigger issues than teaching the kid to fix a car," she joked.

"Yeah, well," Luke said, avoiding her eyes.

"Aw, hon," Lorelai said, patting his cheek. "You're having your version of a mid-life crisis. Tell me there isn't a bright red sports car in the driveway right now."

"No sports car."

"Good. Now listen to me," she directed, moving her head so he was forced to meet her gaze. "You are _not_ an old man. You're just a man who maybe needs to get a massage and have his elbow checked out, and who gets tired staying up with his kid when he's sick. You're normal. And on their birthdays normal people appreciate that their busy wife cooked with hardly _any_ outside help and don't question why something seems to be a color it shouldn't be."

"Should I be concerned about this meal?" Luke asked, feeling marginally better.

Lorelai smiled and lifted a shoulder. "Only slightly."

Luke leaned forward and gave her a lasting kiss. When they broke apart he murmured, "Thanks for making dinner."

"Don't thank me before you've tried it."

_10:14pm_

Luke yawned as he stepped out of the bathroom and turned off the light. Lorelai's head was propped against her pillow, her eyes closed but glasses still on, a book left open on her stomach. Luke had put Will down tonight, wanting to spend time with his son after the weird day he'd had, wanting to read him his favorite book (_Goodnight Moon_) twice and watch the boy drift off to sleep and admire his little features. Will had Luke's nose, which Luke felt bad about but Lorelai loved.

The mattress shifted under his weight as Luke got into bed heavily, pulling the covers up to his chest. The movement roused Lorelai from her light sleep and she took a deep breath, removing her glasses and rubbing her eye. "Did I fall asleep?" she asked.

"I think so," Luke answered, leaning back against his memory foam pillow, which he'd insisted he didn't need but Lorelai had bought anyway (he'd grown to love it, of course).

She put her book and glasses on the side table and yawned. "I'm exhausted," she said, a phrase that had become almost a nightly ritual for one of them to utter since Will was born.

"Me too," Luke said, shutting his eyes for a moment, the day officially catching up to him.

Lorelai scooted closer to Luke and rested her head on his shoulder, her right arm going across his chest to hug his body closer. "Are you feeling better?" she asked.

"Yeah," Luke said, putting his arm around her shoulders. "I guess something about turning 46… I just felt the aches and pains today, y'know?" He paused, considering the deeper issue. "My dad was 46 when he got sick. And Liz and I, we were grown by then, we weren't kids anymore. But Will… he's still just a kid. He still needs his dad."

Lorelai gave his middle a squeeze. "Babe, you're not going anywhere. Not if I have anything to say about it," she insisted, lifting her face to his so she could look him in the eyes. "We still have a lot of life to live, you and me. You can't go soft on me now." Luke raised his eyebrows and Lorelai rolled her eyes. "Dirty, yes, I know. I wasn't trying to be!"

Luke chuckled and then sighed. "I'm just glad it's almost over."

Lorelai sat up suddenly and smiled secretively at him. "Not quite. I haven't given you your gift yet."

Luke liked where this was going, but for the sake of not assuming anything he protested: "You made me dinner, you stayed up with Will last night – that's enough."

"Uh, I think my husband deserves a _little_ bit more than getting to go to sleep early and shoveling down some mediocre lasagna for his birthday. That was the pre-gift."

"The pre-gift," Luke repeated, quite intrigued.

"The main event is _tomorrow_ evening," she said, laying it all down: "Lord and Lady Gilmore have so _generously_ given us a night off from Friday Night Dinner (with only minimal begging and pleading and the promise of a kidney from yours truly), darling Rory is giving up _her_ Friday night to baby-sit her little brother, Sookie knows someone in the kitchen at that new place in Hartford we've wanted to try _forever_ and got us a primo reservation, and Caesar is all set to open up the diner on Saturday morning."

Lorelai grinned, obviously pleased with herself. Luke nodded, very impressed. "Wow," he said. "But why is Caesar opening Saturday?"

"Because," Lorelai said, and now she looked devilish. "I booked us a room for the night at a hotel a block away from the restaurant. There's no way you could get to the diner in time to open. Maybe not even for the lunch rush."

That last comment had Luke on the verge of blushing, it was so laced with intent. "I see," he managed, smirking at her. "Suddenly my birthday doesn't seem so bad."

Lorelai leaned over and kissed his cheek. "And I will be _more_ than happy to remind you how _not old_ you are," she murmured, and then she pulled back and shot him a wicked smile before turning out the light and settling down for bed.

Luke sat still half-sitting up, blinking into the dark, visions of what tomorrow night would bring swirling in his head. His back wasn't hurting so much after all.

**XXX**


End file.
